


Hell Would Be Worse Without You

by Books_and_Cats_and_Coffee (orphan_account)



Series: Sladiver Week 2019 [1]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2020-10-27 01:25:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20752037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Books_and_Cats_and_Coffee
Summary: An accident on Lian Yu leaves Oliver with a broken leg and Slade avoiding him.(Sladiver Week: Day One Island Fic)





	Hell Would Be Worse Without You

Oliver would have thought bones were harder to break. He looked down at the makeshift cast around his leg, grimacing as he lifted himself into a more comfortable position. A fair stack of finished arrows sat next to him, each one surprisingly neat. Alone in the fuselage, back against the wall, Oliver had spent the entire morning there. Now, bored and restless, he moved his hands to get a grip on the wall, pulling himself to his feet, just as Slade stepped through the doorway.

The Australian immediately tossed aside what he was holding, stalking over to Oliver with an evident irritation. “I thought we agreed you resting.” He didn’t get much of a chance to argue, as Slade immediately had an arm around him. Oliver felt that if he tried to ignore the Australian’s help, he might just be carried, and so he let Slade support him as he moved, there was no reason to get the older man even more angry at him.

The rain from earlier had stopped and it was nice to be in the fresh air once again. Shado was cleaning several small birds, and Oliver (after debating the matter with Slade) limped over to help. She smiled at him, passing over a bird and one of the small knives.

Slade hovered behind the two of them, his presence so obvious that Oliver almost sighed. He looked over his shoulder. “Any sign of them?” He asked. Slade shook his head, eyes scanning the trees as he spoke, not even looking at Oliver.

“They’re hiding,” he replied gruffly. “Smart, but we’ll find them eventually.”

“They may yet launch an attack,” Shado reminded him. “We must be careful. I saw tracks from people when I was hunting. It looked as though they have been searching for us as well.” She set the cleaned bird aside.

“Then we should find them first.” Slade was already walking away before he finished speaking. Oliver turned back to his work, shaking off whatever feeling nudged him in response to Slade’s manner. He was obviously mad, and he obviously had reason to be. It had been a dumb mistake.

He and Slade had gone out hunting, though they had started in separate directions, by the evening, they had met up and started home together. Halfway there, they were ambushed. Some of Fyers men must have been out of camp when they blew the place to hell. They had opened fire on Slade and Oliver who just barely escaped. They were pinned against a sheer drop, with only a little cover from trees. The Australian had gone to circle around, and Oliver, who had been slowly losing ground, found the quick way out. The ground under him had given way, and he plunged down to the rocky water below, breaking the bone in his calf, a couple rips and dislocating his shoulder. His arm had been jammed in a rock crack, and unable to move, Oliver hung there, half in the water, hidden by a ledge above for over two hours before Slade found him.

With no idea of what was going on above his head, he hadn’t dared to yell out. He heard gunshots, but that told him little. Slade might have even thought he had returned to camp. All Oliver knew was that it was almost dark, he had blacked out twice from the pain, and he was freezing when the Australian had suddenly appeared on his left. He had easily freed Oliver’s arm (although it was far from unpainful) and half dragged, half carried him back to the fuselage. Not speaking the entire way. Later, Oliver learned Fyers men had escaped

“Maybe he shouldn’t be out alone,” Oliver said, pushing away his thoughts as he turned to Shado. The woman looked at him reproachfully and he rectified his statement. “I’m not volunteering. It’s just, if there are more of them then we thought, things could go south for him.”

“Well if you want to tell him that next time, feel free to,” Shado replied, collecting the birds. “But he’ll only be angry with me if I go after him now.” She offered Oliver a hand up, and he took it, as well as the makeshift crutch she held out. It was little more than a tree branch, but it worked.

“I thought he was still mad at me, what did you do?” Oliver asked, walking back to the fuselage with her. Shado stopped, turning to face him.

“Slade isn’t angry with you,” she stated. Her eyebrows drew together, the sincerity in her expression doing very little to reassure Oliver.

“So that’s him not being pissed off?” Oliver asked, gesturing after the Australian. “He barely speaks to me, barely even makes eye contact and uses every excuse to leave.” Shado looked at him for a moment longer.

“He’s not angry with you,” she repeated. “He is angry with himself; he blames himself for what happened.” She turned to keep walking, forcing Oliver, who was still trying to process what she said, to rush after her.

“What? It wasn’t his fault!”

“Oliver, when have you known anyone to be able to sneak up on Slade? He was distracted, and he is angry that he was.” She silenced Oliver’s defense quickly. “I do not agree that it is his fault, but he feels this way.” She entered the fuselage, and Oliver took a moment to process what she had just said. He followed.

“What do you mean he was distracted? Why?” Had Slade really been that off? It was true, the Australian didn’t let people sneak up on him, he must have been really out of it, then. How had Oliver not noticed? This time, Shado’s expression was a little more confused. She stared at him for a few seconds, then shook her head, muttering something in Cantonese and turning away. “What does that mean?” Oliver asked. Had he just angered her as well.

“It means you are dumb,” she tapped his forehead, shaking her own head as she moved past. “Even dumber than him if such a thing is possible. Talk to him. You two will be the death of me, I know it.” Having no idea what she meant, Oliver could only stare after her as she ducked out of the fuselage again. “I am going to find some herbs. Tell Slade when he comes back.”

“No sign of them,” Slade stepped through the entrance, glancing around the fuselage interior and pausing. “Where’s Shado?”

“Out gather herbs,” Oliver relayed her message. The Australian nodded, setting his sword aside and standing there for a moment longer, seeming to search for something to do. Knowing it would probably be his only chance, Oliver spoke. “Slade?” The man looked up at him, waiting. “That whole thing that happened, with Fyers men-”

“Was a real shit show, but we’ll get them soon.” Slade interrupted. Oliver shook his head, he had already started, he wasn’t about to back down now.

“You know that wasn’t your fault, right, any of it?” he expected a sarcastic or angry response. Instead, Slade paused for a long second, just looking at the floor. When he finally spoke again, his words were carefully spaced and clipped.

“They shouldn’t have had that upper hand. I should have heard them before they were able to start shooting.” He went to turn around, and Oliver, fearing that his retreat wouldn’t just be physical, forced himself to go on.

“Well, you don’t know, they all might have undergone intensive ninja training,” he stated. The look he got wasn’t amused, but it was almost annoyed and that was just as good. “Or maybe they’re really the guys from those _Mission Impossible_ movies.”

“Should I be concerned you suffered brain damage as well?” Slade asked.

“I mean I’ve been stuck here for about six days, usually alone so no one to talk to…” he lifted his shoulders with a mock frown. “I don’t know that does sound like beginning of me going crazy.” Slade snorted softly, walking across the room and crouching next to Oliver. The American let him lift his arm, feeling his ribs.

“Let me know if crazy you is easy to deal with,” Slade replied, letting his arm down. Oliver rolled his eyes at that.

“Don’t forget, you just admitted concern for the wellbeing of my brain,” he retaliated. “Which means that you care about my brain as difficult to deal with as it is.” Oliver frowned, realizing too late how little sense the sentence made. Slade raised his eyebrows. “Okay sleeping is hard when your leg’s broken.” Oliver said. “Don’t look at me like that. My difficult brain is tired.”

“I’ll check the supplies we recovered for painkillers,” Slade told him. He straightened, walking over to one of the large trunks and opening the top.

“Did I do something wrong?” he was honest now, entirely open without any trace of humor. The Australian turned around quickly, but not as quick as his response.

“No. What do you mean?” He denied it before he even seemed to think about asking Oliver’s meaning. The American tipped his head.

“You’re been spending a lot of time out. I just got the feeling you’re avoiding being around me.” Oliver felt his heart sink as Slade turned around again. It definitely wasn’t a denial. The American pulled his good leg up to his chest, listening to the Australian rummage around in the supplies. He finally straightened, holding a small bottle he gave to Oliver.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he said shortly. He was avoiding eye contact again.

“Slade.”

“We’re stranded on an island full of things that want to kill us,” Slade said suddenly, tone sharp. “The most important thing for all of us is to keep a clear head and stay focused on what we need to do. Everyone can be dangerous.” Oliver was angry now, he thought, for some foolish reason, he might have progressed past that point in Slade’s mind. Of course he’d grow attached to the Australian, and Slade would just…be Slade.

“Slade, we’re a team, you and Shado and me, we work together, we live together, we fight together. But you’re still going to hold onto that idea that you can’t trust anyone. That anyone could betray you? I’m now Wintergreen, neither is Shado. You survive with the same people you expect to stab you in the back. I mean seriously? After everything you still don’t trust me?”

“I trust you,” Slade replied quickly, and Oliver stopped himself. The reassurance snapping away the anger he felt immediately. The Australian faced him, hands clasped together, face unreadable. “But maybe it’s just not a good idea I spend much time around you. It already ended badly once.”

“I can’t tell if you’re saying it’s my fault or the universe’s.” Oliver admitted. It was the first time Slade hadn’t been crystal clear in what he meant. But it almost seemed the Australian didn’t _want _Oliver to understand him.

“It wasn’t your fault, I should have been more alert,” Slade replied, Oliver wanted to revisit that argument, to reassure Slade that it was _not his fault_. But the Australian didn’t give him a chance. “It’s easy for me to be distracted by you. It’s gonna get one of us killed.” It took a moment for Oliver to process what he meant, and Slade went back to clean up the supplies. _Easy for me to be distracted by you_. The past few days had been miserable, not because of the broken bone, although that had been painful, but because Oliver felt as though he had lost Slade through his stupidity. He refused to let that happen.

“Okay,” Oliver nodded, not missing the way Slade was scanning his face. “But here’s the thing, I can be a hella of a lot more distracting if you’re avoiding me and then we’re going to be in even more trouble.” He looked up into Slade’s face. “That plan is probably not going to work.” He saw the barest hint of a smile in Slade’s face. “So, my recommendation is you don’t be stubborn and know that we going to get Fyers men. That cliff thing could have happened any time. We’re in a dangerous world. I don’t know about you, but I personally think it’s a lot better with you close by.”

Slade didn’t reply immediately, but he did sit down next to the American, and Oliver considered that a win. He tipped his head as the Australian drew in breath. “You know, we probably won’t make it off this island. And if we do, everything’s different.” Oliver had thought about it time and time again, and each time, with less enthusiasm.

“Maybe everything doesn’t have to change,” he offered. “But if it does, that’s still a long way in the future.” Slade agreed, and the two sat in silence, Oliver thoughtfully tinkering with the bottle of pills. Night crept in, and at some point, Oliver fell asleep, his back sliding against the wall until he was resting against Slade. The Australian didn’t move, and it was only a little longer before he also dropped into a light sleep. They were like that when Shado returned, taking one look at the two, before shaking her head and moving away, light steps soundless on the fuselage floor.


End file.
